Helena's home 320 W 38th Street New York, Monday, 26 December, 2017 11:45 p.m.
Off Camera
A heavy silence distinguish Helena's apartment in New York, a reflection of how quiet her life has turned to be recently since, for one reason or another, she cut all ties with her previous life. The Revenants are no longer a thing, after the last, umpteenth betrayal by Big Boss Rosario at GOL! Chapter Siete. Henri Black is not even asking her texts, Esgaroth is back in Germany, possibly retired for good this time and his daughter, Kiareq, the one who actually brought some spice in her life when she moved in under the same roof, went back to Europe with him. But that can't be the only reason why she looks so upset, sitting on the white leather couch in the middle of her living room twirling a wooden object in her hands. It's a small, black Dalecarlian Horse, the fondest memory of her childhood. A Midsommer Festival she went with her mother and her step brother, Alexander Svart, possibly the last happy day before their life turned into a nightmare, before she was forced to leave Sweden and her family. On the opposite side of her room stands a huge Tv screen, smashed right in the middle after something, probably the remote control that lies on the floor with batteries scattered all around. She puts the wooden sculpture on the nearby glass table. It's the third piece of a set, as can be understood by the 3/3 written under it. The other two, representing Helena and her mother, are still held by Alexander. She insisted, convincing him to let her keep this one, the smallest one, the one covered in scars, the one that can't stand without leaning on the others. The one embodying her little stepbrother. She takes her phone, scrolling her finger through the menus, reading her texts. Especially, that last one, still unanswered, still unread three hours after being delivered.
Good luck Lexi
That, and the smashed tv screen, are telling that things didn't go particularly well for Alexander. She keeps scrolling the menu on the screen, entering the "recent calls" . Her finger hesitates over the contact named Mom, uncertain about calling her or not. She decides to drop her phone on the couch instead. Her hands moves to her left shoulder, exposed since she's wearing a white top tank and reaching one of the tattoo covering her body. An ultra realistic portrait of a blond smiling kid, her step-brother. Under it, written in gothic characters, the words Evig Karlek, which roughly translate in Everlasting Love can be read. She kindly caresses the kid's face, sadness and concern writhing her face. Eventually, she pick up her phone once again, sending yet another text, this time to Dr. Brown.
Doc, I need to see you. ASAP
Victory Studios Charlotte, NC Friday, January 6, 2017 4:00 pm
Have you ever felt like looking at someone and seeing a younger version of yourself?
Helena Noir is sitting in front of a mirror, inside one of the many Victory Studios locker room. She stares at her reflected image, dressed in her ring gear, ready for the fourth episode of Victory tapings.
I didn't. It never happened to me, not even the first time I saw my step brother. He's quite my opposite, so calm and collected, so disciplined you actually would think he's into some zen shit. It's just another way to express his feelings. Or rather not. He's the kind of guy that keeps everything inside, that swallows his pride and the urge to react when pushed, until the moment he can't take it anymore. And does something stupid, like he did on December 26th. Me, on the other hand, I used to have a much lower breaking point, always ready to pick up a fight, always ready to voice my opinion, no matter how unpopular it could have been, always ready to follow my instinct. It was Helena Noir versus the world, and I was determined to win it, no matter the cost, no matter how many people I was going to hurt in the process. It's not like I needed them anyway...
A smirk while she shakes her head follows this short trip down Memory Lane.
I'm not a social media fan, I think it brings out the worst from people, and I admit, I felt in this trap four months ago. That's why I rarely post on Twitter, but that doesn't mean I am completely unaware of what's going on around me. I remember the shitstorm that followed Miss Rivera's comment about a certain girl, and how it lead to an insanable fracture between the company and a certain spoiled brat. And I noticed how quickly things escalated right before last episode of Victory between our General Manager and my opponent for tonight. Cheesecake... I find your ring name amusing, but don't worry, I'm not falling in the clichè of mocking you for it. I am a Swedish girl with a French name, not really the best pick when it comes to judge anyone's name. You're pretty active on social media. as it's expected from a girl of your age. And you showed some attitude, that's undeniable. Relax, I'm not here to scold you or tell you that you should be more politically correct, less aggressive. I'm no hypocrite. If Twitter was a thing when I was eighteen, I would have act EXACTLY the way you are.
Lowering her head, she tries to hide a chuckle.
I'm not supporting or condoning your actions, neither I want to patronize you, I can't and I don't want to change who you are. Besides, you probably don't care about what I have to say... You are thinking that I'm just another bitch, who maybe, just maybe, used to be cool years ago, before she suddenly grew old, becoming a boring preacher. And that wouldn't be far the truth honestly. I used to challenge authority just like you. I enjoyed being the "Mary Mary quite contrary" just for the fun to piss off people, like you do. You're smart enough to undertand where I'm going... You remind me of a younger myself. And it took me one minute to google your name and see what hurt you, what made you so bitter, what turn you into such an aggressive girl. Just like a wounded animal, you strike first to protect yourself. That's natural, and instinctive, and I'm sure you'll eventually grow out of it. You have a lot of weight on your shoulder, the burden to live up your father's name, his legacy... That's a lot to take in, I see why you are trying so hard to meet the expectations, taking unnecessary risks, like that one time you injured your neck. It's not a matter of being reckless or too green -no pun intended- it's because you know whose daughter you are, and you need to meet his standards. Let me tell you this Cheesecake. You have a whole career to do that, you don't need to push it, just like you don't need to push away all those who are trying to help you. You are so young, you have plenty of time to step out of your dad's shadow and build your own legacy. Feel free to take my advices, and the lesson I'm going to teach you inside the ring as the first stone to pave your path to greatness.
She stands on her feet, giving one last quick look at the mirror, before turning to the door. Legacy... It's about time I add another chapter to mine. Two weeks from tonight, at Revolution, when I'll beat Summer to claim my Heritage title.
